


iodine

by Killermanatee



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Coping, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killermanatee/pseuds/Killermanatee
Summary: Number One and her captain try to find a way to cope with the aftermath of the battle against Control.





	iodine

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the [Merry Month of Cohen](https://killitwithtears.tumblr.com/)  
> Big Thanks to [Mia Cooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/works) for organizing it.  
> Story based on the Leonard Cohen song of the same title.

 

* * *

  

_And everywhere the flare of iodine_

 

* * *

 

 

After the battle is over, there is a moment of silence on the bridge of the Enterprise. It’s nowhere near long enough for the events to sink in; she knows that will take time. She has been with Starfleet too long to still have any illusions, knows about the effects of what they have just endured. She’s seen too many people die, witnessed her fair share of trauma.

These wounds never heal without scars.

In the short respite amidst all the destruction she looks over at her captain, and their eyes meet, silently conveying everything they need. After all, they’ve been through enough to know how to share their burdens.

As everything roars back to life she doesn’t envy him for the conversations with command he is about to have, for having to find the appropriate words that say enough and yet not too much of what they have gone through.

Reports are coming in about injuries and deaths, structural damage and ruptured coolant lines. For the next five hours there is barely time to breathe as they deal with the long list of emergencies, working hand in hand, their entire crew in tune as everyone does their best.

Eventually the critical systems are taken care of and sickbay reports that most crewmembers could be released, while only twelve still require medical attention. She is thankful for that little bit of hope, wiping dirt from her hands. Her uniform is singed and torn, and due to the coolant issue, she’s sweaty as hell.

At the end of her last round, her feet carry her to sickbay. This is the duty she likes to avoid, coming up close to the pain and suffering, never knowing what to say. It’s the part of their job he will always be better at. He has a way with people that she lacks, and it is obvious yet again as she watches him making his rounds, the injured crewmembers taking solace in the presence of their captain.

She’s been doing fine without him these past months, but his way of finding a comforting word and encouraging smile for  all of them reminds her that there are still some things to learn if she wants her own command. In her way to help, she makes inquiries about supplies and offers to distribute more power from the science labs; her attention drawn to the hard facts that don’t demand an emotional response.

Maybe that’s why they make such a good team.

And then, as if by some sort of choreography, they both arrive at the doors at the same time. First officer and captain - the command team, a little worse for wear - leaving sickbay together. The door closes behind them and they walk through the quiet corridors that have not been fully cleared of debris. Their steps in sync, they do their best to focus on the ship and stay on track to avoid the painful truths stirring underneath.   

Standing at his quarters, she reaches for his hand. The light squeeze before he lets go tells her all she needs to know. After all, their arrangement has never required much discussion.

Behind closed doors, they undress each other with practiced ease and toss their filthy uniforms into the recycler. It’s with a bitter smile that she thinks how nice it would be if they could do the same with the memories of today. 

He sets out towels for both of them, ever caring and considerate, no matter the circumstance. It’s what she’s missed the most.

The hot water helps. The temperature is higher than she’d usually like, but maybe if her skin feels as raw as her insides, it will put her back into balance. Her head falls forward as his large hands wash the grime from her back, massaging her shoulders in broad strokes. His touch isn’t that of a lover, because that’s not what they are. She doesn’t have the right word, neither in her native tongue nor Federation standard or any of the other six languages she has studied. It used to bother her; that there was no term to define them, no way to compartmentalize.

She has since learned to push those thoughts aside.

They each wash their hair, and then he turns and her fingers dance over his muscular back as he leans forward, hands against the shower wall. The physical remains of the battle disappear down the drain. If only she could wash away the emotional ones as easily.

Her first kiss is pressed to the top of his spine. It’s a small gesture and she doesn’t even mean anything by it. Maybe it’s a reflex, a subconscious need to reassure him that things are still the same; that he has come home to a place that deserves the name.

His shiver gives him away. The air around them changes, heats up and prickles along her nerves.

Bringing her body in full contact with his, water pools where they are pressed together. Her fingers travel down his chest, find his navel and make his abs twitch. But instead of following the fine trail of hair, she caresses his hips and rubs his thighs. A strangled sound falls from his lips; somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

This is good, this is their normal. _This_ she can do.

She finds his length hard and ready. Fist firmly wrapped around him, his entire body grows rigid along hers while she strokes him in long and steady moves, speeding up until he shudders and spills himself over her fingers and the shower wall.

Continuing to kiss his back, soothingly caressing his chest under the spray of the hot water, she waits for his breathing to slow. When it eventually does, he turns around and she barely gets a look at him before his arms wrap around her, so firm and intense that her throat goes dry.

She is the one to pat his shoulder, ending their embrace before it can sweep her away into territory they have always safely avoided. His eyes seem to need a little longer to focus on her when she suggests getting some sleep, but he nods and turns off the water.

By the time she has dried her hair, he is already in bed, but his eyes seem to be lightyears away. When she slides under the sheets and places a hand on his cheek, he slowly comes back to her even if the sadness lingers. Despite the low illumination she can make out how his wrinkles don’t soften as much as they used to, that there is more grey at his temples than the last time she had the chance to really look at him.

He still leans into the caress of her thumb and in familiar response his hand slides up her thigh, but his motions feel robotic, lacking their usual playfulness, even as his fingertips caress her hip. Where she is used to a glint of mischief, a wink or some cocky remark, his face now remains stoic.

She wants to allow for the desire to drown out everything else and to take her to that place of blissful oblivion, but tonight she waits in vain.

What he is offering isn’t what she’s here for and it dawns on her that maybe what he needs isn't anything she can offer. So she clasps his fingers in hers and brings them to her lips, kissing each knuckle.

The silence engulfs them, like something new and raw.  

Like something that will leave behind scars.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [IceCream_Junkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCream_Junkie/pseuds/IceCream_Junkie/works) and [Miss_Mil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mil/works) for the beta-work. <3


End file.
